


a silent cause

by Silver_Shadows



Series: we live in a beautiful world; [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Eventual OT6, GTA AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Shadows/pseuds/Silver_Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and so the story goes:</p>
<p>he takes the city, kicking and bleeding. he doesn't need help.</p>
<p>(at least that's what he tells people.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a silent cause

It’s 6:04 pm in Los Santos. Scene: Open cobble-stoned area between several run down old apartment buildings all crammed together. It’s the kind of place you’d half expect to see a few tumbleweeds blowing through, and kids get picked up for drug deals way too often. We’re talking the other side other the railroad tracks, here.

A man in a suit is standing next to a nice car that’s parked out in the middle of the open space; probably both are European. One glance at the guy and anyone could see how inexperienced he is, most likely sent here by false promises and even falser ego. He’s looking around at the old buildings, mouth open slightly, not at all on his guard.

Suddenly, another car(black Mercedes) drives into the area from a side alley, and the man snaps to attention, looking a little bit too much like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The car parks and a woman steps out. It’s immediately obvious she’s the one in charge, or at least higher ranked; each of her steps have purpose, her gaze is unwavering, and when she speaks, her voice is like a cracking whip.

“Where is it?”

The guy fumbles for a moment with the question. “Y-you mean, the, uh-oh right! Yeah, the briefcase! I've got it, yeah, hang on, I-”

The woman rolls her eyes and holds in a sigh. Someone isn’t getting a raise.

A couple minutes of rummaging in the trunk of the man’s car pass.

“Sometime this year would be nice.”

The guy jerks his head up, effectively whacking it on the trunk lid, and the woman scoffs as he winces.

“Here it is!” 

“You look entirely too proud of yourself for having completed such a simple task.”

The guy looks affronted. “Hey, I busted my  _ ass  _ getting this intel for Rubio-”

“Shhh!  _ Shut up! _ Do they not teach you how to keep your fucking mouth shut at whatever pretty boy institution you came from?”

“You know what-”

Gunshot.

The woman drops to the ground, one neat bullet wound between her eyes.

The man whips out his handgun(apparently not a complete idiot), frantically scanning the area. He screams.

“Where are you?!” 

It’s like watching a bad horror movie.

Flash of pink. Gunshot. 

The man drops to the ground moment later, an identical bullet wound to match his partners’.

Ray grins.   
  


\---   
  


It’s a lot like this:

Ray gets contacted. Ray takes the job. Ray kills people. For money. Ray gets offered a position in a high ranking crew. Ray politely declines. Ray goes home, pats himself on the back, takes himself out to dinner. He deserves it.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

Sometimes it’s not good, sometimes he doesn’t get enough work, and there’s longer times between jobs. Sometimes he just isn’t in the mood. Sometimes he’s on the run because he messed up that last guy’s order, but hey, in Ray’s defense, killing the kingpin in charge of the Greater Los Angeles Area is a little more difficult than some would think.

During these times, it goes like this:

Video games. Weed. More video games. Food, usually chinese. Anxiety. Pills that are probably definitely illegal. Panic Attack. Regret. Sleep, if he can swing it. Even more video games. 

Et cetera. 

Right now, he’s going through the first cycle, which is nice.  _ Nicer anyway _ , he thinks to himself as he pours gasoline on the bodies,  _ than super duper cool fantastic crippling paranoia _ . He chuckles at his own joke because yeah, he’s funny.   
  


His watch says it’s 6:36. His phone tells him the sunset is at 6:47.

Perfect.

He scales the wall of the building he had just occupied as easily as normal people climb stairs. Hopping from roof to roof, he plays his fun game of sneaking up behind birds and seeing how close he can get before they’re startled into flight. With the stress of the job, Ray reasons, chasing birds and making shitty jokes is not only fun, but necessary.

He finally finds a nice roof that’ll suit him for now; it’s big and open but shorter than the others, so not as chilly. Ray lets his legs swing out over the edge, a thrill on its own; just barely hanging on, his life so fragile and in his own hands, heart rushing like it rarely does anymore, looking out over a city he has sworn to own or die trying, a city that is so easily taken apart, a city he could accidentally fall onto from 70 feet up and be crushed.

He’s used to this, the familiar push and pull. He takes from Los Santos, Los Santos takes back. It took his mom, his only family left, and he takes its money, its people, its security. 

It’s still not enough. 

The sun goes down, red and shimmery; it disappears into dark orange and pink clouds. 

(It’s never enough.)

  
  



End file.
